iSnap The Wishbone
by Bucket on the Head
Summary: Freddie and Sam meet over a wishbone. Spam, Creddie.


**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly.**

iSnap The Wishbone

--

When I was seven, I went to a restaurant with my family for Valentine's Day. There, I met Freddie Benson.

The Benson's, being absolute health freaks, had only allowed the children to have tiny pieces of chicken and vegetables, but tragically forced them to cut into all of it with only a spoon. I pitied the poor children.

One child, though, was different. He found a wishbone on his plate. His head turned curiously, only to spot his father's gleaming face. His father winked and the boy smiled, looking around for someone to crack it with. There was no other boys his age, and he knew his mother would scold his father endlessly if they were spotted cracking it together, so he had to find someone else.

Then he found me.

My family was exceptionally out of the ordinary. Some people with piercings, others with tattoos, and many with both.

I could tell he was frightened to approach, but I looked normal, so he ventured on.

"Hi," he said, waving the wishbone around. I looked down at him from the tall chair and smiled.

"Hi," I said back, and he gave a smile of his own. "You wanna crack the wishbone with me?" He asked.

"Sure!" I jumped down from the chair and grabbed one side of the wishbone. We closed our eyes and thought hard for a wish. When we did, our eyes had opened simultaneously and we nodded.

The wishbone snapped and the longest end broke off on my side. I had won.

We had grinned at each other, smiling with ignorant bliss at our first meeting.

"Cool!" I shouted. "So what's your name anyway?" He had asked.

"Samantha Puckett, but call me Sam or I'll knock your teeth out. What about you?"

"Fredward Benson," he held out his hand for a shake, "but I like Freddie better."

I slapped his hand because I didn't know what to do with it, so he slapped mine back and grabbed onto it. He raised it and lowered it. A shake.

"Nice to meet you, Sam."

I had picked up on the purpose, so I shook our combined hands.

"You too, Fredward."

'_I wish I could see Freddie again someday.'_

_--_

My wish came true.

When I was eight, I met Carly.

I had been casually sitting under a tree, bored out of my mind after having devoured my lunch. I looked around and saw I girl I had never met before, with brown hair and brown eyes and a stupid, frilly dress on. I could take her.

I went up to her and avoided looking into her eyes. I pushed her down to the ground and sat down in front of her sandwich. I spotted a wishbone in her lunchbox and smiling, I pocketed it. I was about to take a bite of her sandwich when the wind was knocked out of me and I hit the grass. I hoped the wishbone hadn't broken.

I looked up and saw that same girl, only sitting back up in the seat, eating her sandwich. Impressive.

Standing up, I brushed myself off and sat down next to her.

"You're alright."

Later that day, in the middle of Ms. Penski's second grade class, there was a phone call.

Ms. Penski stopped explaining the difference between multiplication and division mid-sentence. She stood up from her desk and swiped the phone off the receiver.

"Yes, yes...alright, thank you." She hung up the phone.

"Freddie Benson, you're wanted in the office."

Of course, seeing as it was a class full of second graders, the whole class began to go "oooooh", except me. I was worried.

After class, I saw Freddie at his locker, clearing out his bookbag and putting his homework into it. I ran up to him and grabbed his shoulder.

"Freddie! Are you-" He turned his face and I saw crystal tears in his eyes.

"Sam...my dad is dead."

Being eight, my only real reaction was to hug him, so I did. It was then that I remembered the wishbone I had stolen from Carly's lunchbox. I took it out and Freddie's frown seemed to lift a bit.

I held it up. "Make a wish."

He grabbed one side and so did I. I wished that he would win.

He did.

He had smiled and hugged me again, "Thanks, Sam."

"You're welcome, Freddie."

--

When I was twelve, Carly, Freddie, and I were best friends. Best friends with a webshow.

"Sam, come on up! We're about to shoot iCarly!" I had raced up the stairs, shouting "I'm coming!" and sloshing a water bottle about. When I had reached the upstairs room, Freddie was already positioned with the camera and Carly was reapplying her lipgloss.

"I'm here, let's do this thing!"

During the show, we had brought out a big, roasted chicken so that we could blow it up.

"Pump up the poultry!" I had shouted, before shoving a giant nozzle into the butt of the chicken. We waited with heightening anticipation as the chicken became more and more bulbous. Eventually, it had popped and we all screamed.

"Awesome!"

Afterwards, Carly had run into the kitchen to get Freddie and I congratulatory Peppy Colas for doing an awesome webcast. I grinned foxily and waved a wishbone in front of Freddie's face.

"Hey, nerd. You wanna crack it?" I had asked, and he half-smiled.

"Sure, just don't hit me." I shrugged, "No promises."

We each grabbed a side of the wishbone and cracked it. I got the short side, Freddie had won.

"Nice work, dork."

_'I wish Carly would fall in love with me._'

That night when I slept over, I told Carly I liked Freddie.

--

When I was sixteen, I was betrayed. Betrayed by the girl with stupid brown hair and stupid brown eyes who used to wear a stupid frilly dress to school.

Her stupid name was Carly.

One evening, Freddie, Spencer, and I had been left alone to watch Girly Cow. Carly had been off on a date with Jake Krandall. I was happy as a clam, thinking: maybe she'll fall in love with Jake Krandall and they'll get married and then Freddie will like me!

It was all in vain, I knew it.

Right before Girly Cow was about to reveal the position of the magical Onion Pickle, the front door had burst open.

It was Carly. I frowned, the date must have been a disaster-

"Freddie! I love you!"

My world came crashing down.

I had flown up from the seat, almost crashing into the table but narrowly dodging it. Freddie had done the same, but was now standing so close to Carly I could bet he was choking on her cheap perfume.

"Really, Carly! You mean it!?"

The situation was awkward and I could tell that Spencer didn't want to be there either. I gave Carly a disbelieving look and she returned it with a "I-know-you-like-him-but-you-missed-your-chance" look. I glared at her and bumped her shoulder before exiting the apartment with Spencer following in tow.

I held myself as Spencer listened and watched with patience.

"I can't believe she fell for the nerd," I had muttered.

My head flew up when I heard Spencer speak.

"I can't believe you did, too."

--

When I was eighteen, Freddie and Carly had already been going out for two years. It was sickening. I never went to iCarly rehearsals again, and Carly had told me endlessly that she understood.

But she didn't understand. She just didn't.

I never talked to either of them again, and though Freddie had constantly asked me why, my only response was lashing out and saying "I don't want to be friends with a stupid nerd!".

It hurt.

One Wednesday afternoon, when I had skipped school again and gone to the grocery store for my solace, I found Spencer.

"Hey, Spence." I had said casually, not looking at him.

He nodded at me, "Sam."

We stood in silence for a while, though in about as much silence as a supermarket could get.

Spencer's voice broke through the stillness. "So, why aren't you in school?"

I shrugged, "I didn't want to go today."

I could feel him eyeing me, so I looked up into his eyes. He smiled at me.

"Hey, Sam?"

I blinked, "Yeah?"

"Do you wanna go out on a date sometime?"

I was disbelieving, but I had nodded.

"Sure."

A couple nights later, it was Saturday, and Spencer had taken me out for a date to Babbo, a beautifully decorated Art resturaunt, filled with luxurious paintings and flower arrangements and centerpieces. I had smiled at him in his tailored black tux, thinking about how dashing he looked when he was all dressed up, then mentally berated myself for thinking while using such old-people words.

We had a nice night, conversing over our meals.

"Complimentary wishbone?" The waiter had said politely, holding up said item.

"Sure!" Spencer and I had said happily, and we both laughed at our own immaturity. The waiter gave us a wistful smile, "Here you go," and placed the wishbone on the table.

We picked it up at the same time and grinned at each other, pulling each side.

Spencer had won.

--

When I was nineteen, Spencer bought a house in Northern California.

At twenty, I became Mrs. Spencer Shay, and changed my credit cards from "Samantha Puckett" to "Samantha Shay".

--

When I was twenty-three, I had already figured out the inner and outer workings of a wishbone. I knew which side to pull if I wanted to win, and which side I had to pull if I wanted to lose.

At Freddie and Carly's wedding, I was the maid of honor, and despite how much I wanted to punch Carly at the altar, I let her have her moment with Freddie because it was important to have a wedding to remember.

I did it because I could not remember my wedding, with my cousin Annie as my maid of honor.

I was empty because I knew for the whole three years I had been married, that I should have asked Carly.

--

At thirty-seven, I had already had two kids. Alana was twelve with platinum blonde hair and blue eyes and Elizabeth was nine with shocking red hair and green eyes. I loved them so much, and was so glad to have had girls.

I knew the very second Elizabeth was born that if she had been a boy, I would have named her Freddie.

Spencer had begun to go through his mid-life crisis at fifty, constantly berating himself in his sleep and keeping me up at night.

"Should have finished law school, should have helped Carly with this, with that, should have gotten a real job, shouldn't have dated that psychopath Miss. Ackerman."

But I still smiled when I slept and woke him with a kiss and a delicious breakfast, because he never once said, "Shouldn't have married Sam."

--

At forty, I gave Alana her first wishbone. She had smiled and said, "How does it work?" I had explained it to her, but hadn't told her which side to hold to win or to lose. I wanted her to figure that out on her own.

I had given it to Alana because she was sentimental, she loved spending time with her parents and giving to the poor and respecting the elderly and doing her homework.

Beth, on the other hand, was very materialistic, and spent most of her time shopping with Carly, to whom she very affectionately referred to as "Aunt Carly".

I had smiled when Alana had broken the wishbone and won. I wanted every single one of her wishes to come true, because she deserved it.

--

At forty-eight, I cried when Alana had come home and told me she was barren, and when Elizabeth had told me she was marrying Jonathan Benson.

--

When I was sixty, Spencer died.

He had gotten into a terrible car accident on his way to the pharmacy, and I had cried louder than anyone in the waiting room.

In the hospital, I sat by his bedside day in and day out, waiting for him to wake up from his coma.

One day, he did.

I was ecstatic when the doctors had awoken me, saying "He's alive, he's alive!" And I had shot up from unconsciousness. They were pumping him with oxygen and IV when he had pulled me closer.

"Sam..." he whispered, and I nodded. "What? What?"

"Sam, on our first date, I think you should know what I wished for..." I smiled and kissed his forehead and his cheeks and his mouth.

"Sam, I wished for your happiness. Please don't be sad when I die."

I had blinked at him, "What do you mean when you-" He smiled at me and kissed my lips.

The heart scanner went blank.

"_SPENCER!"_

--

At sixty-eight, I still looked like a child. Skinny, with smooth skin and bushels of blonde hair, though my eyes were very much duller than they used to be.

At sixty-eight, I wept when Carly died.

Carly rested in the same room Spencer had, Freddie had made sure of it. I had smiled as I stroked her hair, whispering that she was my best friend and that I was sorry for everything that had happened. Freddie had watched me through the entire thing, trying desperately not to shed even a single tear, though I heard his sobs when I left to get us food.

At ten that night, Carly died.

I held Freddie's head as he choked out as many tears as he could from such an aged body. I murmured sweet nothings and told him to be strong for his children. He had lifted his head and looked me in the eye, and nodded.

"You're right." He said, and it was the first thing he had said to me in forty-three years.

But also the first time in my life he had ever said that I was right.

--

At sixty-nine, Alana came home to tell me that she had adopted a child. A baby girl with her yellow hair and her husband's dark brown eyes.

I hugged her tightly when she said she would be naming the girl Samantha.

--

At seventy, Elizabeth had come to visit me for my birthday. She had smiled and said "Happy Birthday mom, you're the big seven-oh." And I had hugged her, her husband, and her six children.

--

By eighty-four, I had broken the wishbone with every single one of my grandchildren. I teach them its myth and smile when they shake with excitement.

At eighty-four, Freddie comes to visit me and tells me that he misses being friends with me, and that he's always loved me. I smile and invite him in, but frown when he turns his back because the very second he got there, he had called me Carly.

We break the wishbone and I win. He gives me a grin and calls me Sam. I smile and wave my winning end in the air, cackling like an old, crazy woman.

That night, I died peacefully in my sleep.

'_I wish for life to go on.'_

--

The End.


End file.
